In our Companions in Christ classes we have looked recently at the story about the woman caught in adultery in John's gospel. I cannot hear that story in which the Pharisees propose a public stoning with detachment. For me it is tied to an experience I had in Afghanistan several years ago. You may know the story of Kabul's soccer stadium. In his book, "Taliban," Ahmed Rashid writes: "A few weeks earlier … the Taliban had lifted their long standing ban on football. The United Nations aid agencies – seizing a rare chance to do something for public entertainment – rushed in to rebuild the stands and seats of the bombed out football stadium. But on this balmy Thursday afternoon – the beginning of the Muslim weekend – no foreign aid workers had been invited to watch the stadium's inauguration. No football match was scheduled. Instead there was to be a public execution and the victim was to be shot between the goalposts … How do we explain the use the Taliban are putting our renovations of the football stadium to?" said one Western aid-worker." (Rashid; Taliban, p. 2) Five years later, in the summer of 2002, I walked on the field of this stadium and could hear the eerie cries of those killed in the almost weekly public executions.

These days when you call to make an appointment with a new doctor, most likely the first bit of information they want from you, even before they want your name is – what kind of insurance do you have? It is that question that will define you in their eyes … not your name, not the symptoms that prompted you to call in the first place. Your place in their office is first determined by your insurance or lack thereof.

Hold these two realities for a moment as we look at the baptism of Jesus that we celebrate this morning. For it is here that Jesus is named and claimed; and here that we remember our own baptisms that name and claim us. John's baptisms were not the first. The tradition was common – cleansing rituals were performed by the priestly tribes. Proselytes to Judaism were baptized to mark the ending of their pagan ways and their acceptance into the community. No one would have thought it odd to find John out preaching his baptism of repentance. What is remarkable of course in the baptism we read about today is who asks for it. We can only imagine John's consternation as he attempts to make sense of Jesus requesting to be baptized. I wonder if Jesus' request is an expression of vulnerability … a needing of confirmation before taking a deep breath and setting out on the difficult journey ahead of him. For the words that God pronounces as Jesus prays after his baptism are this: "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased." Consider this from John Stendahl, a Lutheran minister writing in the Christian Century: "the calling of Jesus is not about a job or a career. It is not a word of mission, sending him into the future. Not at the outset. The word of baptism is first of all about the delight of God in this beloved, this chosen, this child called by name. Not a call to do, but a calling that names." (Stendahl, Christian Century, 1997, p. 1219)

We find the same theme in the text from Isaiah: "Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine … you are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you." The people of Israel had forgotten who they were. It was difficult to remember anymore as they sat in the wreck of exile that God had once chosen them as a people set apart. Into that wreck comes the prophet Isaiah to draw them back and remind them that they have been named and claimed by God. South African bishop Peter Storey tells of visiting the office of the United Methodist Bishop in Ohio and find this: "There is a fountain where water runs down the face of a smooth granite slab. Visitors are invited to place their hands on the slab, let the water stream over their fingers and meditate on the words carved into that slab: 'Remember your baptism and be thankful.' Until we know we are made, loved and claimed by God as God's children, we have nothing to offer this world that in cannot offer us.

In a world that defines us by many things – a number; an insurance company; a report card grade … as a divorced person, single person, married … by a job title or lack thereof … by many things … anything, but our name, the idea of being named and claimed by God is perhaps the crucial issue. It is first very personal to us – as Christians we talk about the moment of conversion, the moment when we knew the loved of God given through Jesus Christ was for us. As United Methodists we remember our founder's moment of conversion. John Wesley, after struggling for years to know he was a child of God, speaks of his moment of conversion in terms of his heart being strangely warmed as he realized that the love of God was for him. There are moments, even long stretches of time in our lives when we have to cling to the remembrance of our baptisms…of God's naming and claiming of us. And we need reminders that we are first and foremost defined by the love of God. There is so much to conspire against knowing we are the children of God. Sometimes it is our own doing – times of deep brokenness when we feel we have committed sins far too great for redemption. Other times it is events of our time that make it difficult to see the love of God active in the world. Those are the moments we need the gift of being held by another who says: "It is ok, you are ok (even if it is not)." Moments when we need to be reminded of this morning's text that name and define us.

Remembering and claiming our inheritance as the children of God is the beginning. It does not stop there. For Jesus baptism marks the beginning of his public ministry … one defined by expanding the boundaries, making room at the table for those previously excluded, and maybe most importantly a ministry that calls people by their name. We are called to do the same as the body of Christ, the church. Baptism, conversion, joining the church … these are only the beginning of our calling as the children of God. Our remembering and knowing we are God's is to turn out to the world and make sure the person we meet on the street, our friends, our family, and the world get to know the same thing. This is no trivial issue, in fact it may be one of the most important things we do.

Proclaiming to the world that we are all named and claimed by God is what it will take to confront the powers that conspire to reduce humanity to numbers and statistics. It reminds us when we aren't a number on our insurance cards, or defined by our lack of insurance. It is a reminder that every time we hear of disasters and atrocities that each person involved has a name and a story. As I walked on the fields of Ghazi stadium in Kabul it was the voices of Abdullah, and Mohammed Daoud, and Amina, and Zameerah that cried out. It is much harder to remain detached by what is going on around us when people have names and stories. This is this truth we turn and offer to the world. God calls us by name, loves us. Paul reminds us in the book of Romans that there is nothing that can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. In response to that love we are called to bring that same love to the world … naming and claiming people, so that they too know they are the sons and daughters of God. This is not an option for us. If we do not offer to others the naming, claiming power of God's love, there are more than enough forces waiting to take over and offer just the opposite. This week, may the words of our second hymn pervade your lives and your actions: "Do not be afraid, I am with you. I have called you each by name. Come and follow me, I will bring you home; I love you and you are mine."